


The kindness of witchers

by JustLittleMe



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Character Study, Corvo Bianco (The Witcher), Gen, Geralt is kind, Hurt/Comfort, Malnutrition, OC wanna-be doctor helps Marlene the spotted wight, Sickfic, Starvation, after Geralt saves her, residents of Corvo Bianco learns that he is nice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:08:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23990563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustLittleMe/pseuds/JustLittleMe
Summary: Isolla is Corvo Bianco's would-be physician, and when Geralt arrives with sickly Marlene de Trastamara she does whatever she can to help. Geralt's offer afterwards proves his character.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 43





	The kindness of witchers

**Author's Note:**

> This story follows the Blood and Wine Expansion for The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt game for Nintendo Switch, and came to me after speaking to Marlene in-game.

For as long as Isolla could remember, her family had served the land of the Corvo Bianco vineyard. Lord or no lord her ancestors had worked the land and kept the earth rich and the soil ready for whenever someone with the right funding would come into ownership. With the Lord Bolius and his lovely wife, Nina, the vineyard blossomed, both literally and figurately. Isolla’s very old grandmother, who had been a young girl at the time, spoke fondly of the couple, and sadly of the Lady Nina’s sudden death. That had marked a new downtime for their beloved home, as Bolius sold Corvo Bianco to Baron Rossell, who neglected the land in favour of his gambling. Isolla and her family knew it was never wise to speak ill of those of noble birth, but they could not help but resent the man who drove their home to ruins. They had rejoiced when the Baron had sold the estate off to the Ducal Chancellery, as no Lord was better than a poor Lord, and they went back to managing the land as the estate that stood upon it faded in the face of the Ducal Chancellery’s continued neglect.

Isolla’s parents had begun to speak about approaching the Majordommo, Barnabas-Basil Foulty, about repurposing the main house into something more useful, seeing as neither Lord nor Lady had stayed there for years. Their plan was stopped however when the witcher arrived at the property.

Isolla had stood with her friends and fellow workers as the White Wolf entered the estate grounds to approach the Majordommo. It was only the night before they had been informed that a Witcher would be receiving the deed of their land, and a foreign one at that. None of them had any high hopes, to say the least. They all knew about the witcher reputation. Never any coin, always on the road, on The Path, and they never stayed in one place for too long. Isolla’s parents had both settled with knowing that the man soon would be on his way.

And then, of course, came the second surprise. Restoration workers and materials began arriving from the capitol. The best of the best when it came to architecture, landscaping, decorations, and so on and so forth. It must have cost the witcher a fortune to be able to fund the restorations. And it did not stop with the main house, it started there, of course, then for some reason they moved onto the stables, which surprised some of Isolla’s friends, as they had suspected he’d want to get production up and running to perhaps create a more stable income than that of monster hunting. Isolla however, was not surprised, she had overheard the White Wolf speaking to his horse and knew well how the man treasured the animal.

Then more surprises followed, there was suddenly funding for the workers’ housing, there was an increase in payments, which allowed some mothers to stay at home with their children and gave the children who’d previously worked the fields the time to play. Isolla wanted to be jealous, she had never had the opportunity to prolong her childhood, but the sound of laughter from the children would only make her smile. This went on for quite a while, and after the restorations were completed it went weeks, almost a month, before they saw their landlord again.

He came in the night, arriving on his horse this time not alone. An old woman was with him. She looked ancient and sickly. Pale and limp in the witcher’s arms as he came to a halt by the stables. Isolla and her friend, Sadoc the stable boy, were out for a walk and thus were the first to greet him.

“Welcome back, my Lord,” Isolla said as Sadoc stepped up to help both witcher and woman out of the saddle.

“Not a Lord,” was the only reply she was given.

Isolla would not lie, the man scared her. She knew well about witcher’s superior fighting skills, and the rumours that they were emotionless did pose a problem should difficulties arise. The White Wolf’s rugged look did not help softening Isolla’s perception of him. The yellow cat eyes and the vicious scar on his face unnerved her, and the constant presence of his twin swords served as reminder to how deadly he could be. However, Isolla refused to act scared. The man had funded the rebuilding of her home, and his horse seemed to love him. The benefit of the doubt was the least she owed him.

Isolla took hold of the horse’s reins as the Not-a-Lord lowered the woman into Sadoc’s waiting arms and swung down after her, swiftly taking the woman back from Sadoc.

“There a physician here?” Isolla startled at the question, not at all what she had expected.

“Not a proper one, my Lord, we usually call for the one from San Sebastien or the one who lives by Cockatrice Inn,” Sadoc replied as he took the reins from Isolla. The witcher cursed and the two of them startled at his language.

“Woman needs a physician,” he said, gruff voice sounding growly, as if this minor inconvenience was the end of the world. Although it could perhaps be the end of the old woman.

“Well, Isolla here always manages in a pinch. She hasn’t got any formal training or credentials, but she always assists whatever physician visiting and studies whatever books she can gain access to. And she does handle most of the child births,” Sadoc said, then he left her with the landlord as he led the horse into the stables.

“That true?”

“Um… Yes, my Lord. Phembe from San Sebastien says I’ve got the work of an assistance at the least, had I only the funds for it,” Isolla replied, her eyes wide. The Lord of Rivia gave her a once over, then nodded towards the main building.

“Come with me.” She followed him in a daze as he carried the woman towards the house. They were greeted by a severely confused and startled Barnabas-Basil when Isolla held the door open for the witcher.

“Guest room ready?”

“Yes, master witcher, the last worker left just before sunset,” the Majordommo said. He got no reply as the White Wold strode past him and up the stairs, as if the woman weighted nothing. And by the looks of her that might very well be the case.

“What on earth happened to her?” Barnabas-Basil exclaimed as he followed the master witcher to the guestroom, waving Isolla long aware of her knowledge of healing.

“She was cursed. Lifted it last night. She’s not doing so good, been living as a spotted wight for about a hundred years,” the Lord replied.

“By the goddess, the poor woman!” Isolla exclaimed, no longer able to contain her wonder. As the woman was lowered onto the soft sheets of the guest bed, Isolla hurried to her side to check her over.

“What is her name, sir?” she asked as she felt along her throat for a pulse.

“Marlene.” Was the short reply she received.

“Mister Foulty, I will need some cold water and a cloth or sponge to bring her fever down. And if you could arrange for some thin broth, a cup and a water pitcher, and some fruit juice for when she wakes up?” she asked, glancing over at the Majordommo who nodded and disappeared back downstairs.

“Master Witcher, could you please help me get her under the covers. With her slight fever I would prefer to keep her cool, but with the malnourishment she’ll also need to keep her temperature up a little, can’t risk her getting too cold too fast.” Isolla knew she rambled, as she had a tendency to do while working. She had been nervous about her habit before, but Phembe had commended her for her clear descriptions. There were times where family or even a scribe would want to know the details of what she was doing.

The witcher did not reply, seeming to know why she kept up a running commentary of her reasoning, he simply helped her put Marlene under the covers.

“Geralt,” he said simply when they had settled the woman into bed.

“Pardon?”

“Not a master and not a lord, just call me Geralt,” he said looking at her from the wall he was leaning on.

“Very well, Geralt,” Isolla smiled. It did not take long for Barnabas-Basil to return with the water and the juice, claiming that the broth would be done in a few minutes.

“Doesn’t matter yet, the first thing we need is for her to have some water,” Isolla said as she carefully mixed the juice into the water. “The sugar from the fruits should help her stomach get used to proper sustenance. Giving her proper meals right away, after a hundred years of starvation, might kill her.”

“We’ll trust your expertice on this” Geralt said, and then he left.

Isolla stayed by Marlene’s side, using the cloth Barnabas-Basil had given her to keep Marlene’s forehead cool, and helping her take sips of fruit water and eventually the broth as her consciousness returned to her. She worked endlessly for a week and half, steadily increasing the amounts of food Marlene got, and eventually moved her onto thicker broth and small quantities of actual food, until Marlene was strong enough to move around by herself.

The day Isolla declared Marlene as healthy as she could get considering the circumstances was the day Barnabas-Basil took over the overseeing of Marlene’s food, making sure that the starved woman didn’t over-eat. Isolla was thanked heartily by the old woman as she left the main house to return to her other work. She knew her parents had stayed out working the fields, and while they knew where she was and that it happened on the decree of their landlord, they had still noticed the lack of hands.

She spent that morning retelling her friends and family every detail about their landlord, and although some seemed surprised at her kind descriptions of the intimidating man’s person, most of them only nodded in agreement that “yes, their lord was indeed a good man.”

That evening, after a day spent in the fields, a running boy came knocking on their door. It was her father that opened, and he quickly called her to the door.

“What is it, father? Has something happened?” she asked. It was Sadoc’s little brother who stood by the door, a determined look on his face. The lad was only 7, and this would be one of his very first errands run by himself.

“Message from the main house, Miss Isolla. Mister Foulty said that the Master Geralt has asked for your presence as soon as it is convenient,” the little boy recounted proudly, clearly focusing on repeating the message word for word.

“You best get going at once, Isolla, maybe Madame Marlene has taken ill again,” her mother said from behind her, holding up her shawl. She nodded in reply and took the garment, gesturing for the little boy to lead the way.

He skipped ahead of her as they made their way to the main house, and Isolla couldn’t help but smile as he puffed his chest out as he knocked on the door.

“Who’s there?” came the voice of Barnabas-Basil, clearly restraining his laughter.

“Bistan returning with Miss Isolla, as you asked Mister Foulty,” the boy replied clearly, and the door swung open. A smiling Barnabas-Basil met them, and he looked down at the young boy.

“Good job lad, here’s the reward, as promised,” he grinned and held out a small pouch of coins, “Now run back home to your parents.”

Bistan proceeded to do just that, after taking the pouch and shooting Isolla a wide grin.

“I thank you for coming so quickly, Miss Isolla, despite the late hour,” Barnabas-Basil said as he led her into the main room.

“Of course, Mister Foulty, if Master Geralt has need of me, I will come as soon as I can. Now, what is this all about?” she asked as Barnabas-Basil gestured for her to sit at the long table. “Has Madame Marlene taken ill again?”

“No, Marlene is fine, and nothing is wrong, but Master Geralt has something he wishes to discuss with you, you just wait here, and I’ll fetch him,” Barnabas-Basil said and left through a side door. Isolla stayed seated, although she burned to get up and inspect some of the artwork placed about the main hall. When she had tended to Marlene she had not focused on the artwork, but now that the danger of the woman’s illness was gone, she would sorely like to take in some of the more… interesting pieces placed about the room.

“You’re welcome to look closer, if you want,” came a low voice behind her and she jumped in her chair. “Apologies,” Geralt said as he moved around the room to sit down opposite from her.

“Oh, no worries, you just startled me a little,” Isolla smiled, “And perhaps I will take you up on that, after you’ve had your talk.”

“Indeed.” His mouth quirked as if to smile, but nothing seemed to come of it.

“It is true what the stable hand said? You always call for a physician in one of the neighbouring towns whenever something happens?” he asked her after a short moment of silence.

“Yes, after the first owner sold the estate everything went downhill, we simply could not support the pay required to keep a permanent physician,” Isolla said, it was a topic of worry for all those who worked the land.

“And what if someone is hurt in the field? Heavy bleeding or the like?” Geralt asked.

“Well, they usually call for me, and if the injury is more than my capabilities, they usually die in the fields,” Isolla sighed. She’d lost more than one farmhand this way. One got badly cut by a scythe and another broke the bone in his thigh which punctured a major artery. They had both bled to death.

“That is a lot of responsibility to put on an untrained, young woman?” it was a statement, but asked like a question. “

Indeed, but I do not mind it. I find it rewarding to act as a healer, despite lacking credentials and the risk of losing someone. Also, whatever I can provide is better than no healer at all,” Isolla replied. Silence filled the room as Geralt examined her face, she was not sure what he found, but whatever it was seemed to satisfy him.

“I would like you to go to Beauclair and train under this Phembe, or whichever skilled physician is willing to oversee you. All expenses covered by the estate, provided you stay on as Corvo Bianco’s permanent physician.”

Isolla was dumbstruck. This was everything she had ever imagined. Her lifelong dream of becoming an actual physician seemed to finally take off.

“Yes, yes of course I will do it. Thank you so much, Master Geralt!”

“Hm.”

And with that, Isolla was convinced that, not only was Master Geralt of Rivia a good man, but he was also a kind one.


End file.
